THE LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1617, 26 April 1879, Page 2

THE LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Apropos of the present tightness let us say in financial circles, the following little item comes from the South. The holder of a Bank deposit receipt for £9CO was about to withdraw his money. This fact, coupled with the knowledge that he had conscientious scruples about taking interest above 10 per cent,, caused him to become an object of the tenderest interest among the money broking fraternity. He was watched into the Bank, and the transaction being completed, he was immediately surrounded by battalions of brokers who were conveniently planted a short distance from the Bank door. Each urged in the most glowing terms the advantages of his particular investment, and after a severe struggle, lasting many hours, the monied man fell a victim to one of the fraternity, who, in the course of a short time, placed the money at a very considerable advance on the rate of interest required by the lender. The story carries its own moral, a portion of which is that the possession of a conscience in these hard times is a very expensive luxury. Not long since a traveller up North entered an hotel and called for a glass of Blood’s Stout. He drank the fluid handed him by the barman and then said placidly “ This is not Blood’s stout. Show me the bottle.” “Oh yes, sir, it is! " replied the barman, “we get it direct from England.” “ Scarcely so,” said the traveller; “I happen to be an agent for Blood. This is colonial porter and horrible bad porter at that. You are only the eighty-ninth man I’ve bowled out using our labels.” By which it would appear that we don’t got English beer and porter quite so often as we fancy. The forging of bottle labels of all kinds (including Mr Hennessy) is becoming one of the leading colonial industries. I understand it is highly remunerative, but I think I prefer other industries. The different lights in which people view things are indeed curious. A while ago the Christchurch people gave what may be called a mixed sort of entertainment for the benefit of the Kaitangata sufferers. I don’t think it is too much to say that the various performers worked very hard, and that the B. P. supported them well. The “ Christian Record,” a copy of which has just been forwarded to me, appears to think very sadly of the iniquitous manner in which we set about it. This is how he reckons up the style in which we ran our show —

“ The Cabnival. —This name, which calls up anything but flattering associations in the minds of those at all conversant with the social history of Southern Europe, was given to a series of entertainments held in Christ* church on St. Patrick’s Day, and held ostensibly for the purpose of raising money for the Kaitangata Relief Fund. The proceeds of the day will amount, we are told, to not less than £BOO j and whilst we congratulate the promoters of the good cause on their success, we sincerely lament that they should find it necessary in order to accomplish so praiseworthy an end to play on some of the weakest and most objectionable phases of human nature. To speak of the money raised by this means as given for the relief of the suffering is an imposition of the most humiliating description." What the wicked associations connected with the name may be I cannot say. Possibly I’m not so conversant with the history of Southern Europe as the writer, but I’ve been to an Italian carnival, and never felt I had committed a deadly sin by so doing. Why the writer should think it fit to say the entertainment was held “ostensibly” for the purpose of raising money for the Eaitangata Belief Fund is another puzzle to me. But it’s a very third-class sneer, and comes with very bad taste from a paper which, calling itself a “ Christian Record,” might be supposed to have a sympathy with charity. Charity, like some horses I know, runs in all forms, and when the writer laments that we should have found it necessary to play on some of the weakest and most objectionable phases of human nature, he really gives one the impression that he knows nothing of charity, human nature, or his subject. His ignorance of the two former may be more his misfortune than his fault, but a paper man ought to have a smattering of the subject ho handles. I dare say with time and thought he may turn out something more suited to his columns in about ten years if he try hard and give his mind right to it. Now, what does this mean ? “ Wanted, a Circular Man. None but a steady competent hand need apply. James Cotter and Co., Qreytown Saw Mill.” Most people, I fancy, prefer a square man ; but, perhaps, it’s the advertiser’s way of saying that he requires a good all-round man. “ At the Buninyong police court, a young man has been fined 20s, with £3 3s costs, for kissing a woman he had been living near, and had been on intimate terms with from childhood. The reason assigned for the action was that defendant kissed the lady and squeezed her so hard as to make her ill since the occurrence, in the beginning of January last.” Mr Tennyson observes, in reference to Queen Guinevere, that, “ A man would give all other bliss, And all his worldly worth in this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.” Very likely, but not in times like these. No man, I don’t care who he is, can afford to give £4 3s for a kiss in the present financial crisis, at least not as a regular thing. Such a price is simply prohibitory. Any man continuing in such extravagance must break, and the kisses wouldn’t show out anyhow in the assets. “ Mr Carpenter cannot knuckle down to the present condition of affairs. He is like a man in a new world. All the old scenes have passed away and he is continually endeavoring to bring them back. But Wellington’s motto is Nulla recitigia retroieum." Is it ? How I should like to have been present at the interview between the writer of the above and the classical printer who §et the quotation. , ~ It’s a pity Mr Fox did not see the beneath when he was round here on his recent lecturing tour. He could, and doubtless would, hnve poiuted a moral “ Medical. — A fully- qualified medical man (English), married, at present surgeon to a hospital on the West Coast, would be glad to hear of an opening in Canterbury. Is strictly sober, and possesses the highest professional testimonials. Address M.D., Lyttelton Times ” office, Christchurch.” I’m afraid the natural inference to be drawn Is that we are a fair drinking community. At least I should judge so when a medical man thinks it necessary to state ho “ is strictly sober. ” A Southern contemporary has been giving an account of the educational exhibition at the Dunedin Normal School— *■ In one room, says the writer, the tables are covered with valuable school books and maps, and the walli

are adorned with a number of drawings of icientific appliances; and in an adjoining apartment ladies may be gratified by an inspection of cunningly wrought needlework, specimens of embroidery, knitting, and other samples of feminine handiwork that invite and challenge the most critical examination. We are not authorities on such matters) but have no doubt that the various articles are as faultless in their construction as they are beautiful in design. Some daintylooking samples of waxwork flowers are especially noticeable.” It reads well does the above, but were there any darned socks on view, that’s what I want to know. Were there any samples of cookery around, because I’m getting to be of opinion that such exhibits would be nearly as interesting as even those noticed above. At least they would to the old man. Between ourselves I should as a rule preferreportingonthe merits of an educational mutton chop to writing half a column even on dainty samples of waxwork flowers. The edible samples are more usefully dainty I fancy. Apropos of education, there were two young gentlemen pupils of one of our leading educational establishments, engaged the other evening in what I believe it is correct to call “swotting up” for the labors of the ensuing day. The following remark was passed by, let us say, the least industrious of the two — “ You may talk about your telephones and microphones, which I don’t understand anything about, nor more I do about this beastly Xenophon, which I think is the worst of the lot. I wish no one had ever invented him.” He wished it again next morning when he got hii) usual imposition. There’s nothing like showing a bold front to adversity. This is what a lady up North did the other day. A Christchurch contractor had built a home for her husband, which tenement was all but finished, when circumstances compelled him to take the benefit of an Act which has at times proved so satisfactory to most of us. It thus happened that the builder lost heavily over his contract, and he was a bit taken off his balance a few days after the meeting of his client’s creditors to get a real nice reckoning up from his wife, because he had not painted her house according to the terms of his specification. The lady’s view of commercial morality certainly deserves appreciation.